When will the sorrow end
To watch my parting friend
From a tower above?
Nothing is so intense as love.
My sorrow interweaves
A thousand twigs of willow leaves;
The pathway east of the town
Is shrouded in wafting willow down.
His neighing steed is far away,
A cloud of dust still darkening the day.
Where is the place
To find my lover’s trace?

A pair of lovebirds seems to melt in water clean;
Little leaflike boats go
North and south, to and fro.
After dusk in the twilight
I dare not go up the painted bower on the height.
What will again be seen
But the waning moon shining on window-screen?
How deeply I envy peach and apricot trees
Newly wed to and oft caressed by vernal breeze!